The Cowboy's Surrender
by
Anne Marie Novark
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KINDLE EDITION
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Book Two: The Diamondback Ranch Series
Copper River Oil Company is drilling for oil on the Diamondback Ranch. Dallas McCade can't do a thing to stop them, because he doesn't own the mineral rights. To add insult to injury, they've sent a woman to oversee the operation. Dallas has good reason to distrust women. As soon as he sets eyes on Gillian Bankston, he loses his temper . . . and his control. That makes him spitting mad and frustrated as hell.
Gillian has never met a man quite like Dallas. He's as prickly as a cactus, but his kisses are hot enough to ignite a West Texas wildfire. Gillian's been burned before and wants nothing to do with love or lust. Battle lines are drawn and it's war between the sexes. Will they surrender to the powerful attraction neither can deny? Who will be the first to wave the white flag?
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The Cowboy's Surrender
Copyright © 2010 by Anne Marie Novark
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
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Dedication
In loving memory to my Maternal Grandparents,
Who taught me to Love the Land.
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CHAPTER ONE
Dallas McCade clenched his jaw in frustration and gripped the binoculars in a stranglehold, squeezing the plastic casing so tightly the lenses creaked from the pressure. He adjusted the focus once again. Anger and rage burned in his gut, just as it did every time he looked down on the scene below.
They had been on his land for eight months. Eight excruciating tortuous months. Copper River Oil Company had cut a road through his property, built temporary buildings, set up trailers for the crew, and hauled in tons of heavy equipment. They were drilling for oil on the Diamondback Ranch, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Lowering the binoculars, Dallas pushed the brim of his black Stetson up over his forehead and reached in his pocket. He shook his head in disgust as he popped a white tablet into his mouth. The sweet bitterness of the antacid washed over his taste buds, soothing its way to his stomach. He hated taking the tablets. The relief they provided was temporary at best. The burning sensation in his belly would last as long as Copper River stayed on his land.
Only four more months and the lease agreement would run out. Unless they struck oil. Then they would be on his land forever, or almost forever. If they struck oil, he'd have to look at the black pump-jacks for the rest of his damned life.
He didn't want them on his ranch. He hadn't asked them to come. He would never have had them there in the first place. But he didn't own the mineral rights on that section of land.
They belonged to Jessie, his new sister-in-law. Dallas knew Jessie thought she'd had to lease the rights or lose her business. He knew she believed it had been her last resort. But deep down in his heart, he couldn't forgive her. Even when she'd married his brother Cameron, and the mineral rights were put in a trust for their future children, Dallas still couldn't forgive. He understood the rights would be back in the McCades' possession in the long run. But that was in the future. This was now.
Dallas hated to see his land exploited. Hated the helplessness of watching strangers working, sleeping, tearing up the land on the Diamondback Ranch. It was enough to make a saint swear.
Four more months. He didn't know how he would stand it.
Ten days ago, Dallas thought his luck had changed. The company rep, the man in charge of the whole operation, had been put out of commission due to a heart attack. Dallas had hoped Copper River Oil would pack up everything and move on. But that hadn't happened.
He found out they were sending a new company representative, a woman from California, to take the man's place. A woman for Christ's sake. That just added insult to injury. If there was any justice in the world, they wouldn't strike oil; then, he and his ranch would be left in peace.
Taking one last look at the hated drilling site, Dallas turned on his heel and made his way to his diesel pickup. He had some errands to do in town.
Most of his hired hands were busy putting up new fencing on the southern border of the ranch. Seemed like they were always working on fences. It wasn't easy keeping sixty-four hundred acres properly fenced.
A new shipment of barbwire and steel posts was waiting at the lumberyard in town. Dallas had elected himself to haul the load to the ranch.
Salt Fork, Texas was a quiet little town, situated between Lubbock and Abilene. There wasn't much in Salt Fork. A person could blink an eye and miss it, if he wasn't careful. Dallas loved the small town almost as much as he loved the ranch.
The summer morning was bright and fresh as he turned onto the two-lane highway. The purple haze on the horizon promised another scorcher of a day. Thrusting the aggravation of the drilling site from his mind, Dallas sat back and enjoyed the twelve-mile ride.
To the east, the Double Mountains rose nobly in the distance, with the church steeple and green water tower of Salt Fork standing in the foreground. It was a sight Dallas never tired of seeing.
Switching on the radio, the soft twang of a familiar country-western tune filled the cab of the truck. Dallas hummed a few bars as the miles melted away.
His humming ceased abruptly when he spotted a woman trying to change a flat tire up ahead, on the opposite side of the road. Dallas frowned and shook his head as he slowed the pickup. Just what he needed, a lady in distress. He wasn't too fond of ladies. Oh, he enjoyed a soft, pretty woman in his bed as well as the next guy. He just didn't trust females as far as he could spit.
The woman glanced up as he passed, then quickly ducked her head, resuming her attempts with the jack. Dallas had a glimpse of dark eyes, smooth creamy skin, and hair the color of midnight.
Hell, he couldn't leave her. He'd have to help her out. Punching the brake, he deftly maneuvered the big truck, made a U-turn and pulled behind the small compact car. His frown deepened when he saw the California license plates.
Killing the motor, he cursed long and hard. It was the damned company rep, no doubt on her way to the drilling site. He had a good mind to leave her to her fate.
He sat in the truck and watched as she pumped the jack up and down, pointedly ignoring his presence. Her wrists looked fragile as she worked the jack. She looked fragile . . . and delicate, too. Slight enough to blow away in a breeze.
The woman continued to ignore him. Giving the jack one last push, she straightened, wiped her hands together, then stood staring at the uplifted tire. She squared her shoulders and walked purposefully to the trunk of her car.
When she bent over to unfasten the bolt securing the spare tire, her tight khaki slacks stretched across her bottom, hugging her figure, teasing Dallas's imagination. She might be slight, but she had a body and curves a man dreamed about.
Wrestling the tire to the edge of the trunk, she stopped to rest for a moment. Breathing heavily, she struggled to lift the tire up and out, but failed. The tire dropped back in the trunk. She tried to move it again, lugging it to the edge one more time. The muscles in her arms strained with the weight as the tire balanced precariously on the rim.
Well
hell. Enough was enough. Dallas grudgingly admired her determination. She was a gutsy little thing; he had to give her credit for that. He also had to remind himself he didn't like gutsy women.
She could ignore him all she wanted, but he had things to do, places to go. She would never get that blasted tire changed by herself. He was going to help her whether she wanted help or not.
The temperature was a hundred degrees and rising. Didn't the woman realize she could faint from heat exhaustion if she wasn't careful? Small patches of sweat already stained her white t-shirt, showing traces of pink through the translucent material. Dallas tried to ignore the outline of her bra and the glistening sheen of dampness on her arms. That sight was teasing more than his imagination.
Climbing out of his pickup, he strode purposefully toward the woman. Gravel crunched beneath his boots. She stiffened, let go of the tire and whirled to face him, her eyes widening slightly. Was that fear he detected in those velvety depths? He must be mistaken, because the impression vanished quickly when she wiped her hands on the back of her pants and stepped forward to greet him.
"Hi, there. I could really use some help here. For a minute, I thought you were just going to sit there and watch the show." She smiled and it nearly pole-axed him.
The woman offered her hand to shake, stepping even closer. "I'm Gillian Bankston," she said, her voice low and husky. It washed over Dallas, making him think indecent and improbable thoughts about her. His imagination was definitely getting out of control.
He stared at the small hand extended toward him. He didn't like shaking hands with women. And he didn't want to shake this woman's hand in particular. Although he wouldn't mind touching her . . .
Damn his imagination anyway.
Stick to the facts, McCade. She was the new company rep. She was replacing the man at the drilling site, which meant Copper River would continue the exploration, which meant she was the enemy. Best to keep that in mind at all times.
He ignored the hand, brushed past her, and hauled the spare tire from the trunk. "You need more help than you think, lady. This spare is flat."
Gillian dropped her hand to her side and squatted near the tire to examine it. "That's impossible. I had it checked before I left home."
Dallas lifted the tire and let it drop. Instead of bouncing, it sank in on itself with a thud.
"Have to go to town and get it fixed," he said. Picking up the tire, he started for his truck. He dumped it in the bed of the pickup, then glanced back at the woman. She stood where he'd left her, staring at him, gnawing her bottom lip. Her lush bottom lip. A lip made for kissing, nibbling. Damn!
He jerked open the truck door. "You can wait here, or you can come along for the ride." Dallas grimaced. Why had he said such a fool thing? He didn't want her company. He didn't want to be anywhere near her.
He was disgusted with his body's reaction to her. He didn't know this woman, didn't want to know her, yet he was fully and painfully aroused. And it was her fault.
Climbing in the truck, he waited. The woman seemed undecided. He leaned out the window. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Probably an hour or so." He started the engine. Maybe she wouldn't take him up on his invitation.
"Wait!" The woman ran to her car. She grabbed her purse, locked the door, then headed toward the pickup.
She was out of breath when she jumped in and buckled up. "I'll go, if you don't mind."
Dallas gripped the steering wheel, concentrating on squelching his body's unwelcome response to her low, seductive voice. He narrowed his eyes as he raked her with a scorching glance. "Lady, I don't give a rat's ass what you do."
Dallas heard her quick intake of breath. He knew he'd insulted her, but didn't care. This woman spelled trouble with a capital T. Not only did she threaten his ranch, she posed a threat to him personally. He felt it in his gut, not to mention another part of his body. He had promised himself never to get involved with a woman on a personal level again. He'd been there, done that, and had the scars to prove it.
Turning the truck toward town, Dallas kept his eyes on the road. He'd get the tire fixed, send the little lady on her way, and hope to God four months would pass quickly and Copper River wouldn't strike oil. Then all his problems would disappear.
****
Gillian grasped the strap on the truck door and held on for dear life. The man who had offered to help her was driving like a maniac. Why on earth had she agreed to come with him? She didn't know who he was. He could be a serial killer, or worse. He looked mean enough. He had the build of a football player. Six foot something, broad shoulders, thick muscular neck. His thighs bulged beneath the worn denim of his jeans. The rugged face was carved in a frown. He was insufferably rude and looked at her like she was some sort of insect.
Just because he was rude didn't mean she had to be. "I didn't catch your name," she said, trying to still the trembling in her voice, more frightened and upset than she cared to admit.
"Didn't tell you." He kept his eyes on the road.
Anger quickly replaced fear. "Look Cowboy, are you always this rude? Or is it just something about me? You didn't have to stop and help, although I do appreciate it."
The man slowly turned his head, meeting her gaze. "No, I didn't have to stop and help."
Gillian flushed as he stared at her. She felt naked and exposed at the thoroughly masculine appraisal. A carnal light flickered in his deep blue eyes.
An answering tremor of desire shocked Gillian down to her toes. She swallowed hard. Twisting the gold wedding band on her left finger, she reminded herself what had happened the last time she'd felt a similar tremor.
The movement of her hands seemed to catch the man's attention, and he stared at her ring. When he looked at her again, the hardness in his eyes hit her with brutal force. He deliberately returned his gaze to the road. "The name's McCade. Dallas McCade." His rough voice grated the nerve endings along her spine.
Gillian blinked. "You own the Diamondback Ranch?"
He nodded, his black Stetson dipping with the movement.
She let out a huge sigh of relief. He wasn't a serial killer, after all. He was just the rudest, most obnoxious man she'd ever met. "Well, Mr. McCade. I would say it's been a pleasure to meet you, but--"
Dallas threw her a scathing glance. "Definitely not a pleasure, if you ask me."
Gillian recoiled from the resentment in his voice. The man didn't like her and was making no bones about it.
They had warned her about Dallas McCade when she was offered Raymond's job at the drilling site on the Diamondback Ranch. Something about him not owning the drilling rights and not wanting Copper River Oil on his land. She hadn't thought much about it when she'd accepted the assignment. She was used to dealing with tough, rowdy men. She didn't like it much, but it was something she had to put up with if she wanted to do her job.
Lifting her chin, Gillian looked straight ahead. "You obviously know who I am and why I'm here. I'm sorry if you don't like it. I understand that you don't want us drilling on your land, but--"
Dallas slammed on the brakes, and the tires screeched on the pavement as the truck lurched to a sudden stop. Gillian surged forward. She tried to catch herself as the seat belt gave way. A large hand clasped her shoulder, pushing her back against the seat.
Dallas leaned toward her, keeping his hand on her shoulder. "Look, lady. Saying that I don't like Copper River drilling on my land doesn't come anywhere close to describing how I feel about it."
"Remove your hand," Gillian said in a whisper.
"What?" Dallas stared at his hand for a moment, then jerked it away and retreated to his side of the cab.
Gillian swallowed hard again. She refused to give way to the suffocating feelings threatening her composure. She reminded herself that all men were not like her dead husband. Dallas had grasped and held her in a protective gesture, and when he realized he still held her, he had quickly released her, the same way he would drop a hot coal.
She didn't know whether
to feel relieved or annoyed. And for some reason, she wasn't afraid of him. Just very aware.
Clearing her throat, she cast a sideways glance at the big man. He wasn't looking at her, but stared straight ahead. He was a million miles away, lost in thought. Gillian was pretty sure she didn't want to know his thoughts.
"Is this a habit of yours, Cowboy?" she asked. "Sitting in parked trucks? Staring at nothing?" Why in the world had she said that? He was mad enough. She certainly didn't need to egg him on.
Once again, Dallas turned that crystalline gaze upon her. The left side of his sculpted mouth tugged upward. "You are one feisty female, aren't you?" He started the engine and pulled the pickup onto the pavement.
"It comes in handy on the job." Gillian tore her eyes away from his fascinating mouth. The smile transformed his face. Seductively handsome features replaced the angry, frowning mask.
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